


Saintsbridge

by Zonerz



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Fuck Miguel, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt/Comfort, I simply think Alfyn deserved to pop off but also pop off as a Doctor, It was also a mix of testing my own anatomical knowledge?, It's not like gorey but they go back and Cyrus gives a medical analysis of Miguel, M/M, Other, does it qualify as hurt/comfort???, fuck it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 02:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30014478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zonerz/pseuds/Zonerz
Summary: Essentially a rewrite of Alfyn's chapter 3 that explores the aftermath of Alfyn fighting Miguel alone like how it felt in-game! I've seen this chapter explored a lot with different characters involved, but never really what it might've been like for Alfyn to be on his own. I am so sorry for hurting my favorite son but I was simply too curious
Relationships: Alfyn Greengrass/Therion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 22





	Saintsbridge

**Author's Note:**

> This is more or less a one-shot thing that I did as an exploration for fun! I hope it's enjoyable!!!
> 
> also shoutout to the writers in this fandom who do H'aanit centric fics because on GOD. I love her sm but figuring out dialogue is a WHOLE experience

Saintsbridge hadn’t been the pitstop Therion was expecting. It wasn’t the pitstop _any_ of the eight of them were expecting. He already had a sour taste in his mouth from the moment he stepped into the town, and he initially brushed that pit in his stomach off as mere nerves from bad memories. Darius and him reigned supreme here in their heyday, one of the best places to nab some quick leaves with all the rich fuddy-duddies prancing about.

Now though, all he can do is scold himself for not keeping a sharper eye out. Ophilia and those kids were damn lucky Linde had seen where they ran off to. Aelfric only knows if they’d have been able to get to her in time without that leopard. Not that Therion particularly cares, of course, but it’d be pretty inconvenient to have the Flamebearer be mauled by some stupid wolf on their watch. Alfyn would be heart-broken.

Speaking of the gold-hearted devil, he was absent from their fight with the wolf. It was odd lacking the loudmouth the few times the rest of the group was together, but he’d committed himself to patching up that pathetic sap on the side of the road. They’d hardly seen hide nor hair of him for the past few days. Usually Therion would shadow the loud-mouthed apothecary when he went bumbling about a new town--especially after the softhearted dolt got screwed over by that Hysel woman--but that Miguel gave him a bad feeling. Perhaps it was selfish to leave Alfyn alone with him, but Therion could only stand seeing glimpses of red hair and toothy grins like that for so long. So he left them alone.

Looking around town as they all re-entered, he couldn’t regret a decision more. 

“Something’s wrong…” Primrose echoed his thoughts exactly from behind him. He nods his head just slightly. There was a tension in the air, people walking faster than normal, holding themselves or their children tight with rigid shoulders. The guard is patrolling too, and they’re just as anxious. 

Therion ducks further down into his scarf, the hair prickling on the back of his neck as a guard passes particularly close. He feels the guard’s piercing eyes trail over him, picking apart everything he displays, but he doesn’t linger long enough for it to do anything. He moves on and he watches the others get treated to the same gaze.

“How peculiar…” Cyrus mumbles a bit too loudly. “It seems we’ve walked into some sort of manhunt.” He shakes his head, “Oh the things that happen in the short time we’re gone!” He sighs and turns back to face the others, “I’m quite curious in regards to this new turn of events. If it would be no trouble Ophilia, I may have to skip on this round of the Kindling in favor of following up on this mystery! I do hope you don’t mind, I will absolutely be there in Goldshore!” 

“It’s quite alright Professor, truly!” Ophilia giggles a little, ever elegant. “I need to take these boys up there anyhow. H’aanit, Tressa, would you two still like to come along?”

“Ohohoho, you’re crazy if you think I’m skipping out _now!”_ Tressa bounces on her tiptoes and H’aanit smiles quietly.

“We would be honored to accompany thee.” She nods. Ophilia beams and opens her mouth to say something more when Olberic steps forward, placing a hand on Tressa’s shoulder and subtly stopping her from bouncing off the walls.

“Are you still in shape to perform the Kindling? Perhaps you should rest beforehand.”

A ringing in his ears makes Therion tune out about there. He frowns and turns around without thinking, looking back towards the forest in the distance. He narrows his eyes slightly, what was he doing? And yet, he swears he heard something in the wind. He starts meandering towards the main bridge in town only to be stopped by Ophilia’s voice.

“Oh, Therion! Are you going to find Alfyn, perchance? I-I don’t mean to pry but if you do see him can you let him know I’ll be starting the Kindling soon? I know he’s quite busy but he said he wanted to see it last time I mentioned it. I would truly appreciate it.” She clasps her hands and smiles. All Therion does is nod into his scarf and turn back towards the bridge. And off on their separate ways they go.

His alone time didn’t last very long with Primrose shadowing him on the right and Cyrus loudly following up on the left. 

“Perhaps Alfyn knows a thing or two! He’s quite charismatic, so he probably knows this case’s details best without even realizing it!”

“Or he’s still busy patching that guy up.” Therion stops his strides, the other two looking back at him curiously. “I don’t think now is the time for 3 of us to barge in with questions, either.” Primrose merely raises a brow at him but Cyrus nods quite thoughtfully.

“ _Yes, yes, I see…”_ He snaps his fingers and smiles, “Quite brilliant of you, Therion! We should not place all our eggs in one basket so to speak.” He quickly walks over and clamps an overly friendly hand down onto his shoulder, “I shall inspect this sector of town! The guards of course should know a thing or two! You go check on Alfyn, and I’m sure Primrose wouldn’t mind seeing what the word in the tavern is?”

“I’ll meet you two there in 20 minutes to share info.” She nods, her jewelry quietly clinking.

“Perfect! Just perfect! I shall see you two later then, best of luck!” He smiles eagerly and speedwalks off. Therion blows out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding. ‘ _What an overwhelming man.’_ Primrose chuckles and he simply glares at her. 

“Relax, pincushion.” She smiles and pats him on the other shoulder. _Gods, when did he let people get so touchy-feely with him?_ “You go spend some alone time with River Boy, maybe you’ll lighten up a little.”

“ _Piss off.”_ He hisses and she just laughs her rich laugh before walking off. Therion shakes his head and clenches his fists, walking a bit faster towards that stupid dilapitated shack. 

His temper dissipates as the old thing comes into view, but not his anxiety. He glances in the window as he passes the side and heads towards the front. ‘ _No light.’_ He scowls, slowing his pace. Alfyn’s kept the candles burning since the moment he stepped in, why would they be out now? He couldn’t be done patching that man up, could he? Miguel, was it? No, not possible. Even if the guy was capable of walking by now, there’s no way Alfyn would just let him get up and go so soon, that’s (annoyingly) not how he works.

Without thinking he slides a dagger into his hand as he quietly approaches the cabin door. His grip tightens--the door has been left ajar. Why is his heartbeat so loud in his ears? What is he expecting to see--Alfyn there dead?

As the thought graces his mind he gets a horrible chill down his spine. He doesn’t give himself the time to wonder why that is. He pushes gently on the door, eyes following the sun rays in as they flood the single-roomed shack, dust dancing in the light. A large sigh escapes him at the emptiness, and he nearly drops his dagger for a moment. Not out of the woods just yet though. He moves inside a pace, checking in the corners and any other hideaways. It really seems there’s no one here… As great as it is to not see Alfyn’s mangled body bleeding out on the floor, there’s now the new problem--where the hell did they go? And why?

“ _Medicine-Man?”_ He hisses, his sharp whisper bouncing back to him in the empty room. Nothing. There really was nothing. “ _Damn him…”_ He grumbles to himself and sighs, turning abruptly on heel and exiting the shack. He squints slightly as he walks back out into the sun, shielding his eyes slightly. It was too nice a day for this shitty of a feeling. His fool’s bangle jingles as he drops his arm back to his side and he sighs as he reminds himself to keep it tucked away and out of sight. 

Maybe he was just being paranoid and Alfyn and Miguel just went to grab a pint at the tavern. Gods, that wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest. He looks back that direction and ponders it a moment.

Then he hears the scream.

It’s shrill and fades into something of desperation from the center of the town down by the inn. He’s already rushing in that direction before he can think about it.

It’s noisy down in the square with a crowd lingering. Effortlessly, Therion weaves his way between the townsfolk, unable to focus on anything other than the loud sobbing of a woman. Once through, it’s quite the eyefull. A rather well-dressed woman was on the ground, gripping tightly to the arm of one guard and bawling her eyes out, two remaining guards ready at her side and holding her by the shoulders--nothing rough but enough to keep her in place.

“ _My son, oh Gods, please! You have to save him! My Timothy, Gods my poor, poor Timothy! I don’t have the money! Please, you can’t let him be killed!”_

“We’re doing all we can ma’am, it’s a sensitive situation… We step wrong and Timothy could be hurt…” The guard she’s clinging to tries keeping his voice level, but it’s easy to pick out the way it shakes. The woman only gasps and devolves into more crying as she lets go to cover her own mouth. Therion notes the way people of the crowd keep glancing off towards the woods and squints at the guards blocking the bridge from there. 

“Kidnapping, huh…” He mumbles into his scarf and, unexpectedly, he hears a grunt of confirmation from his left. He glances up at the man beside him, half expecting it to be Olberic, but seeing a far gruffer man instead. He immediately recognizes him from when they first entered town--it’s that other apothecary, the one Alfyn initially cussed out. _As if I wasn’t on edge enough,_ he grumbles to himself. Before he can consider what to do about him, the man speaks.

“You’re one of that kid’s friends.”

“The Tim kid?” Therion snorts.

The man rolls his eyes and glares at him, “The apothecary, Alfyn. I remember seeing you shadow him when he first found that bastard.”

“We’re not friends.” Therion doesn’t know what else to say in response. The man nods thoughtfully.

“Makes sense. You look like you’ve got a sharp eye and half a brain. You know bad news when you see it, and sticking around to get wrapped up in that murderer’s business alongside Alfyn would be suicide.” The man huffs and Therion can’t help but bristle at how easily he says this, shooting him a glare. The man raises a brow, “Oh? Or perhaps I read into something wrong?”

“The hell do you _want?_ ”

“Just tryna figure out the type of company the kid keeps… You know if he’s got any family?”

“... What are you implying?” He fully turns to face the man, glaring up at him with his good eye. The man sighs as he stares towards the woods. with a faraway look in his eyes, and it irks Therion. He’s asking a simple fucking question, it shouldn’t be hard to answer straight.

“A bumbling hick is hardly a match against a practiced killer. He’ll be lucky if the death is quick.” He shakes his head as he says it and any snide remark Therion would make gets caught in his throat. The hair on the back of his neck prickles and his stomach drops in dread. ‘ _How long has it been since he left? Is he already dead? How can I get past the guards in broad daylight?’_ He hears a scornful _‘heh’_ from the apothecary, and his cheeks heat up--he must’ve looked like a damn doe in the firelight. He berates himself a moment for being such an open-book before the man starts speaking again.

“I tried warning him. But,” He sighs, shaking his head, “Some people are just too trusting. Gets the best of them. Now a child is missing--probably dead--and Miguel’s probably already struck Alfyn down and is on his way to find whoever’s life he can ruin next. That’s the thing with thieves--they take, and take, and take, with _nothing_ to give back. No thank yous, no respect, no empathy, _nothing.”_ He spits and Therion’s heart pounds louder and louder in his ears.

_‘Does he know? Does he realize who he’s talking to? He’s right. He’s right. Pathetic. You have nothing to offer. Not to anybody, and a fucking child could recognize that. How stupid to think otherwise. You stupid--’_

Yelling and a sudden clamor shoves him out of his thoughts--literally. Therion stumbles forward as a man behind him rushes past him to get a better look at what’s happening. His bangle jingles again as he steadies himself, and his stomach drops. He quickly straightens himself and tucks his arm away again, face heating up from the shame--but he was too slow. He briefly catches the eyes of the other apothecary, and the disgust and anger in them makes him seethe. ‘ _Enough of this fucking bastard.’_ He scoffs and roughly shoves his way back to the front of the crowd, hoping he--and Alfyn _especially--_ never have to deal with this asshole again. 

This time, it’s harder to get back into the crowd as everyone’s clamoring for a look at who exactly is emerging from the woods. ‘ _Never has there been a worse time to be so fucking short.’_ Therion growls and settles for playing a bit dirty to get through, elbowing and stepping on toes and then slipping through the cracks.

_‘That idiot. I told him to be careful. I told him to not get involved after Hysel.’_

That shrill scream rings out again, turning into the desperate cries of a mother. Therion’s throat closes up in dread and he can’t swallow it down. ‘ _Who’s coming out of the woods? Is there gonna be a break in the crowd to run after Alfyn? Is he going to be wide-eyed and cut to bits near an equally mangled child?’_

“ **_MOVE!_ ** _”_

Therion’s heart skips a beat and the crowd parts enough for him to see a man rushing forward with a child in his arms. There’s blood coating his arms and both their clothes, with two bloodied spears on his back. He’s covered in bleeding nicks, scrapes, gushing cuts and bruises. His hair is a mess and has dropped to his shoulders. The boy is wrapped in something, a green fabric, but it’s being soaked with blood from his injuries. 

“ _Alfyn?!”_ The yell escapes Therion before he can even think. The man’s--no, _Alfyn’s_ eyes shoot up to meet his, but the warmth he’s so known for disappears as quickly as it comes. They only hold eye contact for a moment, but it’s more than enough to have the reality of what happened shoot Therion in the chest. ‘ _Aelfric no…’_

“ _Timothy! Oh Gods!”_ The mother runs forward, trying to cup her son’s face with shaking hands. Alfyn slows his gait just for a moment but quickly begins pushing forward again.

“ _He needs attention, I can still save him. Where’s your home?”_ He’s curt and the woman cries out again at his words. She says something Therion can’t quite pick up but points towards the back half of town. Immediately she hurries ahead and the small crowd parts. Therion can only stand there and gape. As Alfyn’s about to pass he opens his mouth but can’t find what to say. Alfyn just shakes his head without meeting him in the eye, “ _I have a lot of work to do.”_

And like that he’s gone. Moving through town as fast as he can without further injuring the kid.

“ _Alright move out! Clear out! That’s enough of that!”_ He hears the guards behind him yell and the crowd is forced to disperse, with himself getting pushed along. Yet he’s unable to tear his eyes away from where Alfyn disappeared to.

 _‘He never should’ve had to fight Miguel alone. He never should’ve had to kill Miguel alone.’_ He feels sick to his stomach suddenly and tears his gaze away to stumble over to the steps by the inn. He sits down and a chill runs up his spine, his blood running cold. Gods, when did he allow himself to be so affected by others? Months ago he would’ve laughed at Alfyn’s trust and optimism being shattered by something like this--’ _betrayal is the way of the world, no room for soft sods like him,_ ’ that annoying voice in his head would always say. But that was just him wishing everyone felt as horrible and he did. Now, it’s hard to stomach being so cruel to one of their party members, especially the guy who’s put up with him since the start.

He looks back towards the woods, subtly playing with his lips--a nervous habit. ‘ _What did he do to Miguel? Is he still alive? … Did he just use a slumberthorn again?’_ He could go see for himself. It would be easy to slip in and out. But would he like what he saw? 

Time slips by, can’t say how long as his mind flares with thoughts of what the hell to do with himself. Suddenly, he remembers Prim and Cyrus. He turns to look behind him at the city upstream--if Alfyn ran through town with a bleeding kid, there’s no doubt they would’ve seen or heard _something._ They’d barrage Therion with questions later if he doesn’t show up now--at least that’s his excuse for getting up and starting that way. Nothing else to do at the moment, and admittedly, trying to stomach another thief’s corpse alone in the woods didn’t seem like his idea of a good time. 

He isn’t sure if he wants to speedwalk there or take his time as he walks to the tavern, but eventually he ends up there, and he still has no idea what to do with himself. The bell rings as he walks in and spotting Cyrus and Prim amongst the crowd is easy. Both immediately turn to look upon hearing the door, and the three share looks of concern and unease. Therion walks over quickly and Prim immediately puts a hand on his wrist as he sits.

“You’re shaken. What did you see?”

“You first, what all have you heard?” Therion looks between the two and they share grimaces. Prim goes first.

“Nothing good… A lot of badmouthing Alfyn and the man he was helping. I initially only heard speculation and vague references to some sort of situation in the woods. But then a flood of people came in and I heard about a kidnapping, and a man returning to town bloody with a battered child.”

“I _also_ heard of the kidnapping, but more so of that than the opinions on our kindhearted friend!” Cyrus smiles a strained smile before continuing, “I spoke to a few guards as they passed their rounds. Apparently a young boy was taken hostage for ransom by that man Miguel--hoisted off to the woods once Miguel caught sight of potential trouble! Afterward, supposedly our dear Alfyn was the only one to give chase.” He blows a sigh out through his nose and shakes his head, “If it truly _was_ him that gave chase, and thusly returned with the boy, then I saw a glimpse of him with the child and mother before disappearing into the houses in the east district. I couldn’t see his face but…” He swishes his drink aimlessly, “I did not need to in order to tell he was horribly distressed.” He huffs, frowning, “We _must_ go see if he’s all right! Were it any of us in his place he would do the same, yes?”

“Not gonna happen.” Therion grunts and Cyrus frowns in confusion. Before the loose-lipped scholar can retort, Therion continues, “I ran into him right as he came back into town. I couldn’t get more than a word in before he said he had work to do and pushed past me. I doubt he’s gonna let _any_ of us get close to him until he finishes patching up that kid.”

“And how long do you expect that to take? You saw the boy too, yes? How badly was he injured?” He asks and Therion sighs and shakes his head.

“I couldn’t tell. Alfyn had him wrapped up in his mantle, but it was looking more red than green.” Therion slouches further into his scarf while Prim and Cyrus hum in dismay. 

“Alfyn is a gentle man… He isn’t going to willingly show his face around us until he’s convinced he can put on a convincing front. He isn’t going to want us to worry.”

“Kinda hard to do when the whole town knows what happened.” Therion huffs and Prim scrutinizes him.

“And you think that’ll deter him from trying?” She leans on her hand, eyes a bit sharp but still genuinely curious. Therion knows him best whether he cares to admit it or not. He begrudgingly looks away which is more than enough for an answer. 

“... Any status on the church squad?” He decides to change the subject.

“The Kindling should be concluding soon.” Cyrus sighs, “Poor Ophilia, she will feel quite guilty for what poor Alfyn has gone through in the meantime. Had we not all gone after that wolf with her, perhaps Alfyn would’ve had back-up.” With this he takes a sip of his drink. Therion furrows his brokes and picks at the wood in the table. ‘ _Not perhaps. Would’ve. Should’ve.’_ Primrose frowns and notes his disposition. She places a hand on both men’s shoulders and leans forward slightly.

“ _Or_ he would’ve run off on his own anyways. Yes, a few more of us might have been in town, but we know how brash Alfyn can be. It already took us a few minutes to figure out what happened, and it would take us another while to not only get past the guard, but find where in those woods they ran off to. Odds are we would’ve shown up late no matter what.”

“One of us should’ve stuck with him… We shouldn’t have left him alone with that guy.” Therion grumbles, tapping the table incessantly. Prim reaches over to still his hand, to which he starts bouncing his leg instead. “I had a bad feeling about him from the start, but I just--” He cuts himself off, not wanting to finish that thought out loud. _He was too familiar. He couldn’t look at that red hair, couldn’t listen to the way he spoke, and certainly couldn’t see that toothy grin. It was too sickeningly familiar. Too much like Him._

“Blaming ourselves won’t solve anything now. I had the same odd feeling about that man as you did.” She meets Therion in the eye as she says this and they share a moment of silent but mutual understanding. They’ve both been in this business and world long enough to know what bad news looked like.

“If I may add…” Cyrus pipes up and both look to him. He clears his throat but smiles and nods, “I also had some reservations about the man initially… he seemed quite liberally covered in blood for his own injuries. I overheard some saying he was a wanted killer who just barely escaped from his last kill with his life.” He sucks in a breath, noting the glare from Prim and Therion’s own tired look. “W-What I’m _attempting_ to say is, we _all_ hold responsibility in some form. Do not blame yourself, for we all should have paid more attention. We merely trusted Alfyn’s judgement, which is honorable, however misguided.” He chuckles bitterly, “I know I was certainly in denial. What harm could befall someone as lovely as Alfyn, no? He’s kind to the world, so we illogically assumed the world would be kind in tow. What goes around comes around, or however you may have it.”

“Wish it worked that way…” Therion grumbles and Cyrus offers a sympathetic smile and sigh. 

“Don’t well all, dear boy, _don’t we all_.”

### ~~~~~

The following days were empty and long, and it was like Alfyn simply didn’t exist. It’d been a while since Therion got up in an empty room--they’d been sharing double cot rooms since they first started travelling together, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t gotten used to Alfyn’s late-night stock checks or the quiet turning of pages in his medicinal books. He wasn’t exactly graceful in the mornings either, bumping into shit and generally stumbling over his own feet, but it got less annoying as time went on. He’d gotten used to the Professor and Olberic’s quirks too when the 4 of them doubled up in a room. 

So waking up to a cold and untouched bed a few feet away from his own? It left him feeling an odd type of way. Not that he was gonna risk lingering on that for too long, though. 

Everyone had long since finished any business they had in Saintsbridge. Ophilia, Primrose, and Tressa spent the better part of the day in the market preparing some warmer clothes for when they head North to Stillsnow, Duskbarrow and Victor’s Hollow. Cyrus remained ever vigilant and talkative with the townsfolk while Olberic shadowed him--Aelfric knows the man could use a chaperone himself now and then--and H’aanit would take Linde on periodic walks outside of town. She was kind enough though to let him tag along too.

And that’s where they were now. 

The leaves crunch quietly under their feet as they meander aimlessly on the edge of town. H’aanit was nice to hang around, she knew how to respect the quiet which, in a group of such loudmouths, was extremely appreciated. Linde runs around with a spring in her step--she never liked being cooped up in towns for too long. She weaves between them, sprints off, then circles around again and bumps Therion in the back. A faint smile graces his lips as he scratches behind her ears and ruffles the fur on her neck. She purrs happily and headbutts him in the hip before sprinting off again, her tail flicking about. H’aanit chuckles as Therion lets out a small sigh.

“She hath taken quite a liking to thee.”

“She just likes the free pets.”

“Perhaps. Though I think thou sells thyself short.” H’aanit glances over at him with a slight smirk and Therion just hums. She sucks in a breath and stops walking, whistling for Linde to come back. Therion blinks and stops a moment after, a bit confused.

“Done already?”

“Nay, just… The forest beyond hath nothing good in it…” H’aanit shakes her head as Linde runs back to her. She crouches down to pet her then gestures to the area around them. “Rivira Woods. I fearen nobody has taken up the task of cleaning in the wake of Alfyn’s confrontation. Not that the scoundrel deserven a proper burial.” She scoffs and Therion scowls at the thought, glancing off deeper in the woods.

“... You really think he’s still there?” He crosses his arms and H’aanit eyes him, a question in her eyes.

“Thou art curious.” 

“Hm…”

“To answeren thy question, yes. In some form at least. Decay and nature hath likely begun taking its course, though she can only work so fast.” She scratches behind Linde’s ear as Therion nods slowly in consideration. He was more curious than he cared to admit, especially since it was just a short walk away.

“If thou would like it, I can accompany thee.”

“Huh?”

“Thou art curious to see how Alfyn left him… I must admit, I have thought much about it as well. So have the others.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The scholar always haveth a curious mind, and the knight wisheth to know what type of violence Alfyn shall need recovery from. Linde shall be able to lead us fairly quick, if that is truly what thou desire to do.” H’aanit looks up to him, “We aren all prepared for whatever grisly sight awaiteth us, art thou?”

Therion breaks her gaze as he thinks. He really _is_ curious, and knowing what he had to do might help. Another part of him can’t help but be fearful though, knowing that he ended another thief’s life. ‘ _Would Alfyn ever raise his axe to me like that? How painful would that be? How painful was it for Miguel?’_ He feels his chest seize at the mere thought of that betrayal. 

“If thou art worried…” H’aanit starts, tearing him out of his thoughts, “I can assure thee, Alfyn thinks highly of thee. Thou may share a profession with this scoundrel, but you aren far more noble and honorable than he. Alfyn shall never be thine enemy.” She bobs her head side to side, “Even if he beith hesitant around thee in the coming days, he will quickly remember why it is you aren different. Relax thy shoulders, surely if the tables were turned thou wouldst be hesitant as well, no?”

“I _get_ it.” Therion huffs and H’aanit chuckles.

“No needeth to be irritable. It doesn’t make thee as mysterious as thou think.” She snickers at that and Therion shrinks a little into his scarf. “Comen, let us return to the inn. If thou wish to venture back out here we can speaketh to the scholar and knight. Though, there is no shame in not being able to stomach it. ‘Tis your choice. Comen, Linde.” With that, she turns and begins the walk back to town. Therion looks behind him and deeper into the woods once more, the darkness of it near palpable. Steeling himself, he quickly follows after H’aanit.

“Grisly sights are a part of the job description. Let’s get moving.”

### ~~~~~

“Y’know Professor, I can’t say digging through a corpse is gonna do much for your already fragile reputation.”

“Hush! I am not _digging,_ I am _examining._ Since Alfyn is obviously not here, I am the next best person to declare a proper cause of death!”

“Yeah I got one for you, that _giant fucking gash in his back.”_ Therion hisses only for a steady hand to clamp down on his shoulder. He shoots a glare up at Olberic who only gives a reassuring squeeze in response.

“Ease yourself, Therion. He shall be finished quickly.” He speaks a little louder, “ _Isn’t that right, Professor?”_ Cyrus in turn bats a hand at them.

“ _Yes, yes! One minute more is all!”_

“A minute, huh?” Therion crosses his arms, “Okay, one. Two. Three. Four. Five--”

“Let us go see what H’aanit has found with Linde.” Olberic forcefully turns and guides Therion away as he nonchalantly continues his counting. Olberic rolls his eyes and sighs. “Therion, I know you are anxious.”

“I never said that.”

“Oh? Then, my apologies, _do_ continue your counting.” Olberic shrugs and crosses his arms and Therion ducks down into his scarf. Olberic eases up and gives his shoulder another squeeze, “None of us like what we are seeing. Though I am surprised to see you so outwardly affected.”

“I am not--”

“You are and there is no shame in that. If you wish to talk about it, I am here. You were the only one who truly saw Alfyn the day he came back, and we know you two are at least comrades.” He pauses to let his words settle and then sighs. He gets a nostalgic look in his eyes as he speaks, “I still remember the first time I saw a kind man pelted in blood, and the shock of it is everlasting. Especially when it’s a comrade.”

“You got a point, old man?”

“I will ignore that, but yes. Despite how grotesque this moment and these days have been, _it will pass_. And ultimately having a clearer picture of what happened here will allow us to help our friend more in the long run.” He taps Therion’s chest, “Somewhere, you know this too. Or else you wouldn’t be here.” Olberic pats his arm, “You have a kind soul underneath it all, Therion. I know you like to think otherwise, but it is true.” He catches Therion’s eye and smiles for a moment, “Alfyn is going to need some of that, and I have suspicion you are the only person he will allow to see him at his weakest. You understand, yes?”

“... Don’t make me gag, old man.” Therions sighs and brushes his hand away. Olberic just chuckles and nods.

“Good, I’m glad you do.” He smiles and H’aanit approaches the two, they nod to each other in greeting. “What have you, H’aanit?”

“Simply more evidence of a scuffle. Used tonics and salves.” She turns and points towards the back edge of the clearing, “There is a patch of blood in the back, likely from the child. Many more dried pools and drops sit throughout. Everything happened here, we wouldn’t need a body to knowen that. No personal belongings left behind.”

“Well that’s good. Wh--”

“Hang on.” Therion interjects, nabbing the attention of both Olberic and H’aanit, “What about his weapons? You couldn’t find them?” He nods towards Miguel’s mangled body. H’aanit and Olberic both frown and Olberic begins stroking his chin in thought.

“Now that you mention it… I haven’t seen anything past the busted dagger he has by him. Not that that’s a bad weapon, but in a one on one with an axe, it certainly wouldn’t cause this much damage. And, Therion,” He points a finger at him as he speaks, “You said you saw Alfyn with several large injuries himself, yes?”

“Well yeah but Alfyn didn’t just have his axe, I saw it, he had two--” He stops. His stomach sinks. ‘ _He had two spears, each tied with tattered red fabric.’_ He looks back to Miguel’s corpse. “ _Twinspears…_ He took Miguel’s weapons after killing him.” 

“Hmm…” Olberic shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head. H’aanit sucks in a deep breath and shrugs.

“Mayhaps he… Fearen that this man would walken again.” H’aanit shakes her head only for their fourth party member to make his presence known once again.

“Unfortunately unlikely, H’aanit.” Cyrus sighs as he moves away from the body and over to the group. “Pardon me for taking so long, I have a decent amount of anatomical knowledge, but nothing like Alfyn. Which is important to note at the moment.” Cyrus shakes his head, “Miguel would have never been able to move again once he drew his last breath, and given his fatal injury, Alfyn would’ve known that better than anyone.”

“Spit it out, scholar.”

“Well, he had many large gashes ranging from the back of one of his calves, to across his shoulder. I was able to tell them apart from the post-mortem injuries inflicted by natural hunters, such as wolves for example, by the incisions--his axe has an astonishingly precise cut! But-- _ahem_ \--I’m getting off track. On the surface, all of these injuries are very standard, what you’d expect from an angry man sloppily slashing at another with an axe. However, Alfyn can be very clever when need be, and he put his anatomical knowledge to expertise here.” Cyrus lifts his left leg and traces the area where his achilles tendon would sit, “Firstly, the cut on his calf was a deep and precise cut to the achilles tendon--which would completely immobilize his left leg as without said tendon you can hardly bend your ankle.”

“Not to mention the loads of blood that was gushing out or anything.” Therion mumbles and Cyrus smiles sheepishly. Olberic grimaces and shakes his head.

“I’ve known many comrades had to put down their arms due to extensive injuries of their achilles. Do continue, Professor.”

“Yes well that was a prime example. He also had his right bicep cut clean through, which would make gripping a weapon extremely difficult to say the least. It performs a similar job the achilles tendon does in the leg. Which brings me to my next point of a puncture wound in his abdomen--larger than a knife but too precise to have been from an axe. Logically, the only conclusion to be made is that Alfyn stole one of his spears upon slashing his bicep.”

“And that’s what killed him?” Olberic speaks quietly and Cyrus hesitates. Olberic and the other share a concerned look. He leans forward, “ _Professor?”_

“Y-Yes, I heard you. But to answer your question, no. That was not the fatal injury, but it likely set up the final blow.” Cyrus offers an apologetic look, “My apologies as this may become somewhat descriptive. But, what I _believe_ happened is that once Miguel was stabbed, Alfyn likely yanked the spear back,” He makes the yanking motion as he speaks, “Which would’ve made Miguel fall forward onto his knees rather than onto his back--and that left the back of his neck and head wide open.” Cyrus hesitates but takes a breath and draws an invisible line at the base of his neck. “The… The fatal wound is a deep cut at the base of the back of his neck. I want to emphasize that I don’t believe Alfyn went in with such brutal intent, however a lot happens quickly in a fight when you rely on instinctual knowledge. He simply saw an opening to a weakness he, as a doctor, knew for certain would put an end to it.”

“How bad is it, Cyrus?” Therion can’t help his impatience and Cyrus bites his lip.

“R-Right, sorry… Essentially, in one well-aimed swing, Alfyn not only of course cut into the back of his neck, but he completely split the vertebrae. The death would’ve been instant. Brutal, but instant.” Cyrus sucks in a noticeably shaky breath, speaking very hushed, “He… Could’ve used less force to do the same job, though. The man very well could’ve been completely decapitated had Alfyn not sustained some injuries himself.”

“Gods…” H’aanit breathes, shaking her head. “I kneweth t’was a violent blow that ended him, but…” She blows a hard sigh out of her nose, crosses her arms, and shuts her eyes tight. Therion can only stare past Cyrus at the mangled corpse in the distance. ‘ _Smart man. Smart, smart man.’_ It was terrifying knowing the extent Alfyn could go when his hands were tied. That fear must have been shining pretty clearly in his eyes as he feels two different hands on his shoulders. He blinks, quickly looking between both Cyrus and Olberic--who has his other hand on H’aanit’s shoulder. She reaches up and pats it, using her other hand to pet Linde. Olberic sucks in a deep breath and clears his throat.

“We cannot look down upon Alfyn for this. Gods know that we’ve all spilled our fair share of blood. This was the first time Alfyn truly took another man’s life with his own hands, and we know how passionate he is about humanity--this is going to haunt him. He knows exactly what he did, and the sights, smell, and sounds will not leave him for years to come. This was done out of desperation and ultimately to _protect.”_ As he says this, he gives Therion’s shoulder in particular a tight squeeze. “We must be gentle with him. Not callous. Not judgemental. We must return the kindness and unconditional care he has blessed all of us with.”

“I could not have said it better myself, Sir Olberic!” Cyrus smiles and nods passionately. He sighs and pats Therion’s shoulder-- _seriously, when did everyone get so touchy-feely with him?--_ before withdrawing and clearing his throat. “I do believe that is about all we’re going to find here. Thank you all for coming along, quite frankly, I don’t know if I would’ve stomached it all as well were I alone.” He bows slightly in thanks and the three nod in return. 

“We best returne. The others shall beginneth to worry.”

“Agreed.”

### ~~~~~

It was approaching evening by the time they stepped foot onto the bridge back into town. It was still warm though, and the late sun gave everything a warm tint. The clouds were beginning to turn orange and would probably be a gorgeous pink later. A lovely sunset was certainly welcome after everything. ‘ _Alfyn enjoys sunsets, doesn’t he? Yeah, he did in Goldshore. Would seeing the twins cheer him up?_ _Why am I thinking about this?’_ He shakes his head and continues into town, the others getting ahead of him.

He takes his time to move over the bridge, taking the moment to admire the pristine water. He doesn’t linger on it--can’t let his guard down completely--but it was nice to note every now and then. He gazes along the riverbank and small shoreline and notes how it declines nicely into a pebbled shore, probably popular among the kids in the summer heat. A few people are meandering along it--fishermen, women doing laundry, kids playing, the like. 

He freezes up as one man catches his eye. He moves sluggishly as he trudges up to the water’s edge with a bucket and bundle of fabric in hand. A few of the other bystanders he noted previously try to hide how hurriedly they move away once seeing him kneel down. Therion digs his nails into his palm and sucks in a breath. He turns on heel, propelling himself forward and quickly cutting through his comrades.

“Oh! Therion! Where--” Cyrus starts only for Therion to hold up a hand, glancing between him and where he’s headed.

“I’ll be back later.”

“Ah-- Well, good luck! Be safe!” Cyrus chides and Therion nods.

It’s a bit of a roundabout trek to get to the shoreline, and frankly it was annoying. Gods only know how long Alfyn was gonna be sticking around and every extra minute passed made him more frustrated. He eventually passes a few of the people he saw from the bridge and some relief flows through him--he’d run into Alfyn in some form or another, the man wasn’t _that_ fast. 

In his hurry he bumps into a few people but doesn’t really pay it much mind until one of them pushes back. He stumbles back and hisses, shooting the person a piercing glare. His irritation quickly transforms into shock, then fury as he meets the eyes of that other apothecary. The hell was he doing down here? He hadn’t seen him from the bridge, maybe he just missed him amongst the crowds? Or maybe he approached the shore from another direction he didn’t spot?

The man was giving him an equally scathing look and, quite honestly, Therion could’ve clocked him right there for just looking at him wrong, but luckily he was preoccupied. He clenches his fists, straightens his posture, and turns his back to the man, hurrying along his path. The world was small enough, karma would come for him later.

Surprisingly, Alfyn hadn’t budged from where he first spotted him on the bridge. Therion slows to a much quieter walk as he approaches. He hesitates a moment and comes to a temporary stop.

Alfyn was… Definitely still a mess. In the three days since he saw him last it seemed he hadn’t changed or even begun to clean himself up past the essential wound clean-up. His clothes were stained still with dried blood, his hair was an utter mess, and he wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to his surroundings. Therion scowls a little--that other apothecary probably was just coming back from having a chat with Alfyn. _Like that was helpful right now. Fuckin’ asshole._ He grumbles to himself then refocuses. How to approach this? He honestly didn’t think this far ahead. Therion awkwardly shuffles in place. He decides not being snuck up on is probably a good start and calls out to him.

“Hey, Medicine-Man.” He waits for a response. Nothing. Alfyn doesn’t halt or hesitate in his movements even slightly. He dumps the bucket he brought with him into the water--diluted blood and some stained rags. The reddened water is pushed along by the current, and within a minute or so it’s like it was never dumped in to begin with. If only it was that easy to wash pain away. Alfyn goes back to seemingly cleaning something without a hitch. Therion fiddles with his bangle and sucks in a breath.

“ _Alfyn.”_ He speaks with just a bit more force and Alfyn’s movements stall just for a moment. He turns his head just slightly, as if waiting for something else to be said. Therion panics and chokes on his words and Alfyn, frustratingly, takes that as permission to go back to what he was doing. 

_‘What am I doing…’_ Therion reaches up and rubs his forehead. Gods give him strength.

He unwraps his scarf and shawl, folding them up and hanging them over a nearby tree-branch and away from the water. He frowns a little at the feeling of the breeze on his arms and chest but shakes it off. Ready as he’ll ever be, he makes his way down to the water’s edge to Alfyn’s right. Without so much as a sound, Therion sits down on his knees on the small shore. Now that he’s here he sees more clearly what he’s trying to clean--his mantle.

Alfyn doesn’t say anything, nor really looks at him and Therion feels that pit in his chest again. Looking down, he notes how dirty his hands still are, and his mantle is just an utter mess. But worst of all, he sees the way those typically steady hands shake, and all at once he really notices how desperately Alfyn’s trying to hold it together. Shoulders tense, breath threatening to hitch at any moment, and his eyes dark in concentration to just get this one simple task done. It’s not a good look for him.

“ _Here_ …” Therion speaks softly and reaches down, gently taking the fabric from him and beginning to clean it himself. Alfyn’s hands stall in the water until they clench and he pulls his fists back to rest on his thighs. Therion hears him let out a shaky sigh as he mindlessly gets to cleaning. He’s done this a million times over, scrubbing for ages to get any traces of red out of his clothes. He slows a moment as a memory washes over him--much younger but along the same river, with a piece of fabric a similar shade of green in his hands. Such a mess after another successful—albeit sloppy—run. But this time, instead of bragging and screaming their victory to the world, the owner remains silent in shame.

“Thanks…” He hears Alfyn croak and pauses for just a moment. Eventually he nods.

“Sure.” He replies quietly and a newly tense silence falls over them. Therion’s mind starts racing as his hands idly scrub—what does he say? How does he say anything? Does he even have the right? He takes in a slight breath, speaking at a near whisper despite it. “The kid okay?”

“Yeah. Tim’ll be fine.” Alfyn manages to get at least that much out and Therion nods.

“Good.” He opens his mouth to say something else but stops. Alfyn doesn’t notice. He doesn’t know what could be overstepping here. He opts to just ask another question, “He need anymore treatment?”

“No. His mother’s got it covered.”

“I see.” He steels himself and chooses his words carefully, “The kid’s lucky you were there, y’know. Those guards were useless--just stood there like decorations.”

“He’d’ve been luckier if I--... If I just--...” Alfyn’s voice hitches in frustration and he just clamps his jaw shut tight. 

“I know what it came to. I’m sorry.”

“No need t’ be.” Alfyn forces his answers to be curt. Glancing over, Therion sees him just staring blankly out at the river’s surface with glazed eyes. Therion shakes his head.

“That’s… That’s not what I meant.” He bites the inside of his cheek as he struggles to get his thoughts together, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Alfyn turn to look at him for the first time in almost 3 days. He feels his chest tighten but keeps his composure and continues speaking.

“I know I’m probably the _last_ person on the planet you wanna hear this from right now, given my own career along with a few other things, _but…_ ” He stops a moment, gripping the green fabric in his hands, “I know how… how it _feels_ to have someone you put so much time and care into, _betray_ you. And I know what it’s _like_ when you’re forced to bloody your hands for the first time _because_ of them… I’m sorry you had to experience that.” He furrows his brows and fidgets slightly before glancing over at Alfyn to see if he’s even paying attention—wrong move, now he knows how intensely those brown eyes are watching him. Therion steels his nerves and refocuses on getting the last little splotches of red out of the fabric. 

“Ther, you don’t gotta--”

“I also want to apologize for the fact that you were forced to go through it _alone.”_ He stops and looks Alfyn in the eyes to make sure his words sink in. The man sucks in a breath and looks away, starting to blink faster as the tears threaten to spill over. Therion looks back to his mantle continues, “Alone and then with no time to process, just shoved back into the action of trying to clean up the whole mess. It’s fuckin’ horrific, and you don’t deserve such shit treatment from the world.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I… I had a feeling that man was trouble, but I was too much of a coward to get close and see or to stick around. I should’ve said something.” He grumbles bitterly, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t have listened anyways, so don’t go beating yourself up for my sake, _please._ What’s done is done.”

“... Right.” Therion sighs, beginning to wring out Alfyn’s mantle. “Can’t argue there.” He shakes his head and hears Alfyn hum something of agreement and the two fall into a reasonable silence save for the rippling water. 

“How uh…” Alfyn pauses, clearing his throat and catching Therion’s attention. He just shakes his head though. “N-Nevermind, it’s personal.”

“What?”

Alfyn grimaces a little. He rubs his neck and shrugs, absentmindedly dragging his fingers through his hair--he hasn’t even tied it up since he got back. 

“W-Well I just…” He bites his lip, speaking quieter as if trying to protect a secret, “How old were you…? When you first…?” His words trail off and his eyes shimmer somberly. Therion takes a breath and focuses a bit more heavily on wringing each drop of water out as he speaks, lest he get too sucked into those memories.

“Young… Recently paired up with someone. Probably 12 or 13.” 

“Shit… ‘M sorry, I can’t imagine.”

“Nothing you gotta apologize over.” Therion shrugs. “It happens. Miguel,” He hesitates to even say the name, “reminded me too much of someone. And, because I couldn’t get over my own fears, you’ve experienced something you can never forget.” He lets out a heavy sigh, “And for that, Alfyn, I’m... sorry.” He slows his movements to a stop, clutching to the green and furrowing his brows in frustration.

“Hmm… Was it that Darius fella?” Alfyn mumbles and Therion tenses, unable to help the accusatory look he shoots him. Alfyn grimaces and holds up a hand, “Er--sorry, sorry. Promise I didn’t do any research or anythin’ on ya. It’s jus’... Sometimes when you wake up from those nightmares, that name’s the last thing outta your mouth before you wake up gasping.”

“You said you never heard anything.” 

“And if I had you would’ve clammed up and never spoken to me again.” Alfyn frowns and sighs, looking away finally, “‘Sides, it wouldn’t have been polite to get all up in your business. Ain’t my place to pry like that. So I didn’t.” He pauses and purses his lips, squinting. “Well, shit… Guess I fucked that up now too, huh.” He blows out a sigh and waves a hand in defeat before rubbing his forehead. “Gods now I’m just sayin’ shit. ‘M sorry, Therion. Just don’t mind me, I’m not tryna get pity I just--... Shit.” He groans and Therion sucks in a long breath to steady himself. 

“It’s… Fine. It’s fine. It’d come up sooner or later with my luck.” _But I’d rather die before that happened_ , He adds to himself. He nods, “You got it though. That’s the guy.”

“‘M sorry he hurt you like that. You don’t deserve that kinda treatment.”

“... Thanks.” That’s all he can manage to say with his jaw clenched so tightly. He stands with a grunt and shakes out the mantle, getting ready to fold it. He lets it hang from his hands for a moment though, and he takes the chance to really admire the green. It was a color that was getting easier to bear as time went on. A few months back and he could barely stomach seeing this thing drifting in the winds in the Cliftlands--he never would’ve been able to clean it like this without some sort of panic gripping him, yet here he was. 

Green honestly used to be one of his favorite colors before Darius. It meant there was life, and resources, and general safety. And lately? He’d be lying if he wasn’t starting to associate the sight with the smell of herbs, flowers, and salves--not red dust, blood, pain, and that hauntingly shrill laughter.

“Anything else you need to do?” Therion glances down at Alfyn as he quickly folds his mantle up and slings it over his arm.

Alfyn takes a deep breath, “Go pass out for a few days preferably.”

“Heh. Sounds like a plan—you look like shit.”

Alfyn snorts, “Way to sugarcoat it.”

“My pleasure. Here.” He offers out a hand and Alfyn raises a brow before shifting into a look of consideration. He tests Therion’s patience just a bit, but thankfully grabs hold and lets himself be pulled to his feet. “There. Let’s get you back, if you’re lucky you’ll be out until noon tomorrow.”

Alfyn lets out a low whistle as he rolls his shoulders, “That sounds just wonderful. You don’t hafta walk me back though, I know I’ve spent more than enough time gettin’ on your nerves today.”

Therion snorts, “Please. If the roles were reversed you’d try coddling me against my will until I decided to prick you with one of my knives. Two-way street, Greengrass.”

“Aww, you care.” Alfyn drawls and Therion glares at him which only makes him chuckle. It’s genuine though, which is relieving to hear regardless if it’s at his own expense. He quickly settles down though and clears his throat, “Uh, thank you though, Therion. I.. I really do appreciate you coming out here this evening. I needed this.”

“... Sure.”

### ~~~~~

“You’re wearing your Knight’s garb.”

“I am.” Alfyn responds as he pulls on one of his boots. “We’re headed North, right? Both H’aanit and Prim need t’ go to Stillsnow yet, and my usual getup ain’t exactly that warm.” He gives a cheeky little grin, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks back down and adjusts his gauntlets and Therion waits for him to say something more, seeing the familiar furrow in his brow, but Alfyn just stays silent. 

It’s _unnerving._

Therion sucks in a breath as he crosses his arms and pads over to where his shawl and scarf sit on a nearby chair. He’d been quiet all night since they talked in the evening, then like a ghost all morning. He seemed a little less stressed, but that didn’t really mean much. Alfyn looks up to him with tired eyes, eyebrows raised in question. Therion half heartedly shrugs.

“Where’s your satchel?”

“My…” Alfyn trails off and Therion sees the little light left flicker out as he nods, “R-Right! Zeph’s bag! I-I still got it, don’t worry. I just haven’t put it on yet s’all.”

“Where is it?”

“Pardon?”

“Where’d you put it last?”

“O-Oh uh, in the drawer with--”

“Got it.” Therion walks over to the drawer he had been using and pulls it out without another word. Alfyn sits there tensely as he walks over and sets it down right by his side. “There.”

“Ah, thanks Ther…”

“Yeah.”

They stay there in silence for a while, unsure of what to say or do next. Therion knows how obscenely polite Alfyn can be, so there’s no way he’s gonna talk freely without being prompted. If Alfyn was gonna get anything out of his system, it was up to Therion to initiate it… Not that he felt even remotely qualified but, shit, it was better than nothing.

“Your friend wouldn’t be too happy to find out you stopped wearing this for a while y’know. Zeph, right?”

“Wh-- Woah now, you think I’m giving up on bein’ an apothecary?” Alfyn laughs but his eyes dart away, Therion just holds his gaze.

“Well that’s what it looked like. I know Ophilia and Prim worked hard at cleaning your other clothes to be spotless, yet they’re tucked away in your bag which was hidden away in a drawer. We’re not even gonna reach a place that’s got morning frost for another week, so don’t try to bullshit me, Greengrass. You didn’t even take stock of your supplies this morning like you always do.”

Alfyn clasps his hands together and just blankly avoids his gaze. Therion lets out a quiet sigh and gathers some courage before sitting down on the bed beside him, taking Zeph’s satchel into his lap for the moment.

“I’ve gotta say, hopelessness isn’t really a good look for you.” He forces a little bit of his usual snarkiness back through, and it pays off as Alfyn’s mouth briefly twitches into a smile. He chuckles bitterly before slowly starting to nod.

“Zeph used t’ tell me that while we were studying together.”

“Oh great,” Therion rolls his eyes with a smirk, “I’ve hung around you hippies for so long that I’m starting to sound like your perfect hick buddy, huh? Gross.” Therion sighs and that gets an actual laugh out of him--quiet but there. 

“Hey now, don’t go and clam up over it. ‘Sides, hearin’ ya play nice now and then is a real treat.”

“Eh, don’t get used to it.” Therion leans back against the bedframe, “Seriously though, don’t go giving up completely just yet.”

“I’m… trying. I’m trying not to.”

“But?”

“ ‘ _But?’_ ” Alfyn scoffs bitterly, “I don’t know if you _noticed_ Therion, but I’ve kinda just been fucking up non-stop since I left Clearbrook. Some apothecary. The hell’s my purpose if all I end up doing is helping get more people hurt?”

“Woah, woah, what?” Therion blinks in surprise and, frankly, confusion. “So you trusted the wrong guy _once_ , that doesn’t immediately--”

“I’ve trusted the wrong _people, Therion!”_ Alfyn turns to him, desperation in his eyes. “I trusted Vanessa too! My blind trust in _her_ nearly got half a town killed for some damn leaves!”

“Alfyn, you _stopped_ her though. You _realized_ something was wrong and _you_ were the one to immediately spring to action to fix it.”

“Only ‘cause I was in the right place at the right time! What if I had left once I saw she was treatin’ everyone, Therion? Huh? _What then?”_

“Alfyn--”

“ _And don’t get me started on Miguel!_ That… That fucking _bastard!_ A-And I actually _trusted him!”_ He starts getting choked up as hot tears slip down his face. He roughly brushes them away and Therion just stares at him sternly. Alfyn continues, “I’m a fuckin’ naive, gullible, overly trusting, stupid--!” He runs out of words as the anger chokes him. He just lets out a choked yell before covering his mouth with his hand. He shakes his head. “ _Ogen was right. I should’ve just listened to him.”_

“Ogen…?” Therion mumbles, trying to place the name. His eyes widen then narrow, “ _That bastard apothecary??_ You’re really gonna take _that_ jaded asshole’s unwarranted ‘ _advice’?”_

“He speaks from _experience,_ Ther.” Alfyn sighs, burying his face in his hand. Therion bristles and leans forward, pulling Alfyn’s hand away so he’ll look at him.

“Well listen up then, Greengrass, ‘cause so do I!” He tightens his grip slightly, “Living your life in perpetual paranoia, pessimism, and suspicion of others is fucking _hell._ _You_ of _all_ people don’t deserve to be trapped in that shit cycle--so don’t you dare _start!”_

“I _can’t--”_

“Yes you _can!_ There’s more than enough untrusting assholes in this world and I’m saying that as _one of them.”_ He sighs and eases up, sitting back again. “ _Look,_ I’m not saying you should just slap a grin on your face and pretend none of this shit happened. But you’ve got half of this team looking up to you in some way, and _all_ of us counting on you when things get tough.” 

“... I know.” Alfyn sniffles, wiping his eyes some more. But, thankfully, he nods--it’s barely there, and you could easily miss it, but he nods. Therion lets out a near silent sigh and feels the tension release from his shoulders. Alfyn pulls himself together a bit more and speaks more clearly. “I’m not giving up just yet. I just…” He trails off but Therion hums in understanding. Getting out of this town would be amazing for Alfyn, it’ll actually give him a chance to breathe and process--that’ll still take a while though.

Therion mindlessly taps on the satchel when an idea pops into his head. He looks down at the satchel in his hands then continues speaking as he begins to test its weight, 

“I get needing time to process. There’s a lot of things that keep ripping the wound open, right?”

“... Yeah.”

“If you were the one doing this I’m sure you’d have some real long cheesy medical analogy, but I don’t, so I’m gonna cut to the chase.” As he says this he stands up, taking the satchel with him and getting a curious look from Alfyn. He picks up his shawl and scarf and turns back to Alfyn, cheeks a little warm from embarrassment. “... I’ve got an idea.”

Alfyn just squints in mild confusion as Therion slings the satchel over his shoulder then quickly puts his shawl and scarf on over it. Realization washes over Alfyn and with it the tension dissipates. His eyes light up for the first time in half a week and Therion glances away to clear his throat.

“Here’s what I’m thinking.” He lifts his shawl to reveal the satchel, “You’re in crisis, and seeing this thing isn’t helping right now. But, we and everyone else on the continent still need an apothecary like you, so no way you can just drop it back off in Clearbrook or some shit. So,” He drops his shawl, the familiar bag disappearing from sight with ease, “For the meantime, out of sight, _out of mind_ . I’m used to carrying extra loads when--” He pauses, grimacing a little, “Well, _you know._ So it won’t be a problem for me. Then you can just grab whatever you need when you really need it.” 

Alfyn just stares at him in a somewhat unreadable expression.

“If… that’s all okay, anyways…” Therion shuffles a bit awkwardly in place and buries his face into his scarf to hide how his cheeks burn. This was way more humiliating than he thought it’d be a minute ago. Gods, when did he start going out of his way to do this kind of shit again?

“That’d… That’d be _amazing_ , Therion.” Alfyn breathes and Therion lights up a little. Alfyn nods, right on the edge of a full blown smile. “That’s going real out of your way for just--... For just _me._ ”

“I wouldn’t be here without you.” He says it without thinking and immediately feels his face go red again. He clears his throat, pretending he doesn’t notice. “I’m simply repaying a debt. I don’t like owing people. You’ve patched me up for free far too many times.” He rolls his eyes and Alfyn chuckles and smiles at last.

“Hey, you know me! I simply--”

“ _‘Saw someone in a bind.’_ Yeah, Yeah, heard it a million times Med--” He hesitates on the nickname. He’ll hold off on it for a while. “I’ve heard it a _million_ times already.”

“And you’ll probably hear it a million more before all our work is done.” Alfyn says with a warm smile as he stands up. He puts a hand on Therion’s shoulder and squeezes it. “Thank you, Therion.” He holds his gaze for a moment and Therion just nods. Alfyn nods back and secures his weapons to his belt, slinging the two new spears onto his back. “We better get downstairs, huh? I bet Tressa’s near bouncing off the walls by now.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised. Albright pays for the damages, though.”

“ _Ha! Agreed.”_


End file.
